


The Michael Sword

by Bloodybunny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodybunny/pseuds/Bloodybunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are not great at the bat cave. Dean and Cas are no longer friends, Sam's being killed by the trials and they still have no idea how to cure a demon, oh and it turns out after you shut the gates you still need a key. Luckily an angel happens to know where it is and offers to help Dean get a hold of it, but it may cost Dean his life, and that's even if the angel can be trusted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Supernatural fanfic so it might take me a while to get the characters just right. Also the first chapter is a bit angsty but it will get better I promise. Oh and this is a destiel story and will be heading that way really soon.
> 
> Disclaimer, obviously i own nothing but my own angel and a few ideas everything else is borrowed.

The Michael Sword

Things had been rather frosty between Dean and Cas ever since the angel had unexpectedly dropped in on them in the middle of the road, but there was a subtlety to it. If Sam hadn’t spent years around Dean and seen him interact with the most rebellious angel in the whole damn garrison then he would have thought nothing of it. But Dean was keeping his distance, he directed most of his conversations to Sam and refused to so much as glance at Cas, he replied as shortly as he could and while his tone wasn’t harsh it lacked the usual fondness that he usually used with Cas. Since it was obvious that neither the angel nor his brother were going to attempt to address the situation Sam put it upon himself and decided to give things a little push. Dean had slunk away to his room to do whatever it was that he did there, most probably clean his weapons, but Cas was sat in the library scanning over some of the lore they had managed to dredge up on healing demons, and was the one least likely to tell him to shove it for attempting to talk about feelings.

“So, Cas, I’m glad you’re here and all...” The angel looked up at Sam expectantly, patient and waiting. Sam had no idea how Dean managed to hold his stare all the time, the direct blue gaze was more painful than the remodelling the trials were doing to his body. “…but, maybe you should have a word with Dean.” Calmly Cas shut his book and placed it on the table in front of him.

“About what?” He enquired in his low voice.

“Umm…about things between you. Y’know.” Cas just furrowed his brow and it dawned on Sam that the angel had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “He’s pissed at you. Don’t you want to…I dunno…talk it out so he’s not pissed at you anymore?” Sam offered awkwardly. Cas just stared at him for a moment and Sam wondered if he was going to reject his idea as unnecessary but Cas got to his feet and gave Sam a solemn nod.

“It would perhaps be best if I did, it is important that we are not distracted by such petty things.” Cas gave Sam a curt nod. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He told him and walked off. Sam watched him go with a dark sinking feeling in his gut; he was beginning to wish he had never brought it up. But he reminded himself that if these trials cost Sam his life Dean would be all alone, Lisa and Ben didn’t even know he existed, Benny was in Purgatory, Bobby was in Heaven, and they hadn’t heard from Charlie since the incident with her mother. Sam needed to know that Dean would have at least one person he could turn to, and for better or worse Cas was his only option.  
~~~D/C~~~  
Cas knocked politely on Dean’s door and waited for the gruff noise of admittance. Dean was sat on his bed with an array of sharp weapons littered around him and he was running a Man of Letter whetting stone over the edge of one of his machetes. Cas recognised a few of the others, ones he’d seen the hunter use against things, and the dark shape of the axe Dean had carried in purgatory sat in pride of place in the middle. A wretched thing, but it had saved Dean’s life more so than any of the others combined.

“Well?” Dean asked his eyes on a nasty looking machete. “This ain’t a zoo so if you’re just looking try another door.” Dean muttered.

“You are angry with me.” Cas pointed out directly and Dean huffed to himself.

“No shit Sherlock, you work that one out all by yourself?” He threw the machete back into the pile and fished out another.

“Actually Sam brought it to my attention.” Cas told him and Dean stopped what he was doing and hung his head a second, cursing lightly under his breath. “I am unaware of what I have done to displease you.” Cas confessed, he was perplexed with Dean’s lack of eye contact. Even at the very beginning of their association Dean had always met his gaze. Castiel had always been able to see the righteous man’s intentions in his eyes; it was disturbing to be so disconnected.

“In the crypt…” Dean started but stopped himself and suddenly it made sense. Castiel dropped his head, he had never wished to harm Dean.

“If you wish for me to apologise for attacking you, I am sorry…” Dean snorted halfway through Castiel’s apology cutting him off.

“You think that’s got me pissed off? If you even knew the amount of times me and Sam have damn near killed each other. Possession, cursed objects, just being straight up pissed at each other, you name it and it’s brought us to blows. I couldn’t care less about that.”

“Then what…”

“I said…I said I needed you, and you, well you just flew right off.” Dean told him and lifted his head their eyes finally meeting. Castiel almost wished that they had not for he had seen the look in Dean’s eyes before, the night that he found out of Castiel’s deal with Crowley. Castiel had hoped never to see that look again.

“I had to protect the angel tablet.” Cas told him urgently, he needed to convince Dean to stop looking at him like he had betrayed him. “I could not stay just because you asked, this is much bigger than any of us.” Dean threw his other knife down and got to his feet wearily. 

“And that’s what you don’t get. Maybe you never got it. Nothing is bigger than this.” He gestured between them with one hand. “All this.” He gestured around. “It doesn’t mean anything if we’re not in this together. Me and Sammy we nearly broke the world and then we shoved it back together again and do you wanna know why? Because we cared about each other. Because we’re family. Someone who’s got your back. Someone to give a damn about. That’s what we need here. Otherwise we might as well just let the world end. And you…” Dean looked pointedly at Cas that deadened betrayed look on his face. “…you don’t have our backs. So I’ll work with you and I’ll be civil, but you’re not family anymore.” Dean told him and strode right past him calling to his brother that he was going out as he did. Cas stood there in Dean’s room, the little nest that the hunter had made for himself, carved out of the uniform chambers of the men of letters headquarters, and for the first time since he had been cut off from heaven he felt alone.   
~~~D/C~~~  
Dean had sped all the way to the nearest bar and demanded a shot of cheap whiskey and a beer. He sulked there for an hour contemplating playing some pool when a hand clasped his shoulder.

“A beer please…and whatever my friend here’s having.” A male voice called to the bartender, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder.

“Look, pal I ain’t into…”

“Please.” The man scoffed. “You think I’m after your sack of meat. No, I have much bigger plans for you, Dean Winchester.” Dean stilled as the man spoke his name and he wondered if this was going to be it.

“So…” He turned to whatever it was and grabbed his beer as it slid over the counter towards him. The guy took his too and drained a deep gulp. “…who you working for? Upstairs or downstairs?” Dean asked, trying to buy some time.

“I’m kinda freelance at the moment.” The guy told him. He looked normal, average height, average build, short cut dark brown hair and grey eyes. He looked to be in his early thirties, the kind of guy who might get lost in a crowd, uniform. “You know you’re a hard man to find, what with those scratching my brother carved into you.” He gestured absently to Dean’s torso.

“Ah, so your one of Naomi’s little helpers then?” Dean smirked.

“Nope, I told you, I’m freelance.” He offered a hand to Dean. “The name’s Sabriel. I was one of Michael’s followers.” Dean tensed at the name. 

“So you were on team apocalypse? Glad that worked out so well for you. And what, you want me to believe you’ve found the light so some bullshit?” Dean gritted out. He had had just enough of angels.

“I was with Michael, Lucifer needed to be destroyed.” He sighed and took a deep drink. “But things kinda fell apart after you locked my brother and the abomination in the cage. Your little boyfriend started his civil war in heaven. I sided with Raphael.”

“You son of a…”

“Oh don’t give me that. Michael was my brother, he was my friend, and Raphael was the only one trying to get him out. You sided with a demon to get your brother’s soul back so don’t you dare judge me.” The angel reminded him, his eyes cold and dark. “But Captain Humanity went all super nova on us and that was that. After Naomi took over it was end game, no one was trying to get Michael out anymore, they’re all quite happy to leave him down there with Lucifer forever. Now me and Naomi we didn’t have any beef, we could have happily co-existence till the end of time. But then see you guys started up your little close all the doors plan and things got a little complicated. See the trials will close the doors, all the doors, heaven, hell, purgatory, but to keep them locked you need a key. And I happen to be one of a few angels who know where that key is.” The angel told him with a self-deprecating look. “It didn’t matter to her that me and others didn’t care in the slightest if the gates shut, that we would happily turn the key over to her. Once she knew that we could find the key…well we had to go. She slaughtered my brothers and sisters, all the other virtues…gone. So I figure if I’m going to get killed just because I could do something, well then, I might as well do it.” Dean just stared at him a while. “And now I need you.”

“Me?” Dean scoffed. “In case you didn’t notice I’m not the one doing the trials.”

“Of course I noticed.” The angel bit back. “But the key is Michael’s sword…and I’m not talking his pretty little meaty jumpsuit…I’m talking a real sword. Now the sword’s a bit particular about who it lets get hold of it. Anyone but Michael and your cooked extra crispy and with Michael in the pit you are the closest thing we have.”

“You think it’ll work?” Dean asked and the angel shrugged.

“This isn’t exactly science here. I’m only like twenty per cent convinced that you can handle the damn thing without burning up into a pile of dust. So wielding it…yeah it’s probably going to kill you, and even if it doesn’t there probably won’t be much you left at the end. But it’s the only way.”

“Why exactly should I trust you?” Dean asked glaring the angel down.

“You shouldn’t but you kinda have to.” The angel told him. “But as a gesture of good will and all that I’ll give you this.” He pulled out an angel blade from his pocket and handed the hilt to Dean. Slowly he took it. It felt different in his hand, light and also alive, it seemed to resonate something outwards like a static covered TV screen. Almost without thinking he slid it down the side of his hip not even thinking about cutting himself. Miraculously the blade fitted against his skin without slicing him open. The angel seemed slightly pleased.

“So what now, we go off and find the Michael blade?” Dean asked suddenly ready to get the whole show over and done with.  
“’Fraid not. We need to get you ready first. You can’t just waltz up to the most powerful weapon ever forged by the hand of god and just pick it up.”

“Great, more trials, like we don’t have enough of them.” Dean grumbled.

“Looks like it. Give me your number, I don’t want to have to trudge the earth looking for you again.” He complained and offered Dean a battered phone. Dean took it and gave the angel his second cell’s number.

“How did you find me in the first place?” He asked, he had thought he was careful. The angel sighed and turned Dean so he was faced out to the rest of the bar.

“I can see their souls.” He told Dean. “All of them, they’re like those crappy solar powered porch lights people have. You…you’re like someone turned the floods lights on at Fenway stadium. Added to that you can see it all, hell, heaven, purgatory, even the fairy realm, your passport sure has some interesting stamps, Winchester. So if you ever wondered how we all seem to find you its maybe because your beaming out like a lighthouse.” The angel, Sabriel, laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You need me, pray for me, otherwise wait for me to call you. This sword business it won’t be easy.”

“It never is.” Dean muttered as he flew off. Dean sat and nursed a few more beers, he had no idea if he had made the right call or not, he wasn’t in a very pro-angel mood to say the least, but at least he had an angel blade. Little happy thoughts of stabbing Naomi in the chest danced through his head for a while before he trudged back to the batcave, it was getting late and if he didn’t make Sammy his dinner the moose probably wouldn’t eat.   
~~~D/C~~~   
Sam was asleep. Dean almost shook his head in wonder, after all his whining he still managed to fall off to sleep almost as soon as he’d finished forcing down a few mouthfuls of food. Despite the way the trials were leaching more and more out of him everyday he had still been so adamant to keep right on going with research. Dean had finally relented when Sam had threatened to mess with baby unless he backed down. But Sam hadn’t lasted long before he’d crashed on the bed fully dressed. It wasn’t the first time though. Somehow in his little brother’s year off he’d learnt to sleep soundly. It was a luxury that Dean envied, he could hardly remember a night when he hadn’t done more than drift, the thoughts of monsters, and later hell and then even later of leviathans keeping his mind half awake. Even with Lisa every squeak and flick of light had been a call back to arms.   
He was sat in an armchair that smelt like dust, and part of him wanted to go back to his room, but he couldn’t leave Sam. He wanted to sit and sharpen all his shiny things until something came and tried to kill him. Sam saw it as domesticating himself, Sam knew nothing. He was hoarding, making a base camp, a wall to press him back against. Behind him Sam wheezed in his sleep, something he had never done, a hard reminder of the weight the trials were heaping on his little brother and how helpless he was to stop it.  
Dean had always had troubling sleeping, so it should have been nothing new to him. Usually he combated it with booze or sex, but since he came back from purgatory the taste of those had seemed sour and mocking somehow. Crossing back seemed like the worst thing he had done to himself. The lack of adrenalin coursing through his body made him feel lazy and sluggish, everything felt too soft and comfortable, too clean and fresh when he was used to dirt and grime and dead trees and hard rocks. Sam had asked him once what he did in purgatory, he had smiled grimly and answered ‘Looked for Cas, questions things, killed things…mostly.’ He had left the implication stand, he hadn’t turned to see Sam’s face undoubtedly pale as he whispered the word back to him. ‘mostly?’. Dean finally turned to him with defiantly unflinching eyes. ‘Yeah, mostly.’ He had ended and walked away, away from his brother, away from that feeling of judgement. Nights like this he wished he’d gone with Benny, begged him to turn him and entered that hell pit all over again for good this time.

Sometimes Dean wondered if yellow eyes had done something to him that night when he took their mother from them and set things in motion. If when he carved Sam into the boy who would release Lucifer, he also made sure it would be Dean who weakened his cage. Had cursed Dean that night as much as Sam. There had to be a reason that he seemed made for every other place but where he was supposed to be. How quickly, once he had given in to Alistair, had it felt so easy in hell, he had flourished in a way he never had up top. His master praised him thickly, the other demons looked at him with respect, black eyes smiling at him as he lost himself to the hack and slash of it all. They wet their lips and praised him originality, his flair and he nodded his thanks and gave himself over to it, trying to ignore the screaming in his head that it was wrong.   
And then when he was in purgatory there was something so freeing about being able to do what he did, not hide it, not dress up as an agent, not lie, or tell some housewife that he was there to fix her wiring and send he off so he could grapple with a ghost. He was there to kill, they knew it, that was what they were there for too, it all made sense. Especially with Benny at his side, pure acceptance in his widening smile, Cas a mission for his head to follow, something bright in the dimness.

He wondered idly if it was his father’s fault, if he had trained him to be the perfect solder and that was exactly what Den was now, a mindless killing thing. Or if it was in Dean all along and if he had never had a mission if he might had become one of those sickos that sliced up their families because voices told them to do it. His father would be so disappointed in him at that moment. He should have found a way, should have tracked down another hell-hound. Tied Sammy up and locked him in some basement somewhere to keep him safe. That was his responsibility after all. And he had failed.

And then there was Cas. Just another one of the people that Dean loved that he had turned to earnestly and begged not to do something only to have them go ahead and do it anyway. Cas was a mystery to Dean. If anyone else had done the things that Cas had done he would have hunted them down and killed them. He had lied to Dean, nearly turned Sam’s head inside out, made a deal with Crowley, unleashed a swarm of long pig eating evil onto the world and ditched him in purgatory. But Dean had always forgiven Cas, maybe it was because he had rescued Dean from hell, maybe it was because he’d given up heaven for him, maybe it was because when he looked at him he actually thought he gave a damn about him. Whatever it was Cas had made it into Dean’s family in record time and once someone was in, Dean rarely let them out again. Cas, apparently didn’t feel the same. Dean had begged him, honestly begged, and Cas had left. As far as Dean was concerned he’d used up his last chance. In his pocket his phone buzzed and he had to fumble for it before the loudest vibration in the world woke up his brother. ‘Tomorrow 8pm, same bar.-Sabriel’ Dean stared at it awhile, wondering once again if he was doing the right thing before deciding he didn’t really care any more. ‘Fine’. He replied and curled up in the chair to try and get some sleep.


	2. The First trial-meeting the rest of the virtues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean completes the first step to getting the key

The First trial-meeting the rest of the virtues

Dean spent most of the day researching with Sam. Or at least he pretended to research, most of the time he just stared at the book in front of him and debated whether or not he should tell his brother about the newest angelic asshat on the scene. It was getting closer to eight and if Dean was going to tell his brother it would have to be soon.

“See if you can find anything about a key.” He intoned blankly before he even knew he was going to speak. Sam looked up at him with a frown, more pronounced now that the trials were making him weary.

“A key?” He echoed.

“Yeah, a key.” Dean stared at him, seriously trying not to let his stomach go queasy as he took stock of the greyish pallor of his brothers skin. He wondered briefly where Cas was, but if he was honest he was glad to have a break from him after their little confrontation. “Someone told me we’re going to need one.”

“Someone told you?”

“Yeah, there an echo in here or something?” Dean growled out in frustration.

“Who? Who told you?” Sam asked and Dean couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Just this…just someone, ok.” Dean avoided.

“And you believed them?” Sam scoffed.

“I guess.” Dean shrugged because it was easier than saying ‘as much as I believe anything anyone tells me’. “They…they gave me this. As a good will gesture.” He pulled out the angel blade from his jeans. Sam stared at it in shock and then slowly cautiously looked back up at Dean.

“So it’s an angel…this someone?” 

“Yeah.”

“Are you insane, Dean? Have you completely lost it? Does Cas know?”

“Hell no!” Dean bit back. “And you’re not going to tell him.”

“So you trust this stranger more than Cas, now? Is that what you’re telling me?” Sam demanded his best kicked puppy look over his face as if he was mad at Dean for angel-  
cheating on Cas or something. 

“Yeah, this guy Naomi wants him dead, so we’re pretty much the only option, so until the queen bitch leaves her little wing tag in dust on our floor he has reason to help us. Cas, who the fuck knows what he wants, what side he’s on.” Dean growled out resisting the urge to thump the table. Sam was staring at him, really staring as if something had clicked in his big moose head that he had never been able to figure out before and then a slight look of pity.

“Ok, I’ll keep quiet, but I want to know, everything. Me and you we’ve kept secrets from each other before, Dean, and it never worked out good. Ok?” 

“Yeah.” Dean told him with a shaky grin, he’d been on the other side of this conversation one too many times to deny it to Sam. “I gotta go, Sammy.” He got to his feet and Sam watched him such a look that Dean knew he wanted to ask him to stay or worse to ask to go with him. Dean reached out and took back the angel blade making Sam blink in confusion. Dean shrugged and smirked at his brother as he tucked the blade down to where it lay, surprisingly warm against his skin. “What? Just cos he’s helping us doesn’t mean I won’t gank his ass if I have to.” Sam huffed out a little surprised laugh and Dean gave him one last smile before heading out.

~~~D/C~~~

Sabriel had been waiting for him, stupidly uniform vessel sitting upright. The only way of telling that it wasn’t just some poor shmuck going to a bar after the daily 9-5 was the ageless glint to his eyes that you came to recognise once you had tangled with enough of the winged bastards.  
“  
So, come on then, what’s the first trial? Is there a heavenly kitten to kill and shower in the innards of?” Dean asked remembering the hellhounds. “Cos I should tell you now I’m allergic.”

“No, nothing as easy or pleasant as that. You’re gunna eat a virtue.” Sabriel had told him. 

“What? Is this some new age crap? You going to make me eat happiness or something?”

“What?” Sabriel seemed genuinely confused, his head tilted to the side and a brief flash of hurt echoed through Dean. He was used to that look, but it usual came with ridiculous  
blue eyes. “Believe me there’s nothing ‘new-aged’ about any of this.” Without asking for permission, because angels never did, he reached out and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead. And that was how Dean found himself being whisked away to some absolute hole in the wall. The place was covered with angel proofing with blood soaked feathers dangling from the ceiling from tattered dried blood encrusted string. “They’re mine, from my wings, makes it so I can angel proof without barring myself while I’m at it.” He explained. “Now sit down its story time.” Sabriel told him gesturing to a worn out and sigil covered chair. “So after Daddy left groups of angels were formed to give a little order to the mess of things, the highest of all of these was the virtues. Eight of heaven’s brightest to help order things. Chamuel, Peliel, Uriel, Barbiel, Haniel, Gabriel, Michael, and myself.” He reeled off holding up eight fingers for Dean. “Barbiel fell with Lucifer into disgrace, Uriel left to join another garrison and ended up being killed by his superior, Gabriel fled from heaven to make himself a heathen god and eventually got himself killed, Michael dwells in the pit, the rest of us Peliel, Haniel and myself stayed in heaven and carried on with our duties. Naomi killed Peliel and Haniel, now I am the only one left.” Sabriel told him.

“Umm...I’m no math geek but your short one power ranger there.” Dean pointed out gesturing at Sabreil’s two raised fingers. 

“And that is why we are here. Chamuel, never could hack it, far too soft a thing to be one of gods soldiers. When Lucifer fell Chamuel refused to take a side, he cut his grace from his body and fell to earth.”

“You mean he’s here somewhere? And what, we gotta find him or something?” Dean asked but Sabriel shook his head.

“Chamuel lived a human life, one single human life here on your earth, but he has been dead a long while now.”

“So what’s he got to do with all this?” Dean asked bored and starting to feel like he was being taken on a wild goose chase. 

“Because, I have his grace.” Sabriel flicked his fingers and there in his palm was a glowing vial of sparkling grace. “And you’re going to eat it.” He told him with a grin. 

“Eat it?” Dean asked with a frown.

“Yes, eat it.”

“You want me to eat that?”

“Yes.” 

“Won’t it…oh I dunno…kill me?” Dean demanded.

“I doubt it.” Sabriel shrugged and tossed Dean the vial. Dean stared at it for a long time watching as the glowing mass surged around trying to break free of the bottle. “Of course you could not, but then you’ll never get the Michael sword and everything your precious little Sammy’s doing to close to doors won’t really make a lick of difference if they swing right back open.” He taunted. 

“Well can’t be worse than that mystery burger in Michigan.” He said and touched his hands to the intricate stopper. It gave way in his hands, untwisting from itself and fanning out until it sat in his hands, four wings unlaced and the glowing mist inside gently ebbing at the surface. “What the hell? I’ve seen an angel’s grace before, this isn’t anything like that.”

“Of course not, Anna’s grace wanted to return to her. This is Chamuel’s grace, it’s been formless for hundreds of years, its angel long since disappeared from the ether. You have to take ownership of it, consume it.” Sabriel’s voice was hushed and mesmerising, a low hum in the air, as soft as the smoke billowing just slightly at the lip of the vial. Dean brought it up to his lips. And then the pain began. It erupted all through his insides and moved as if it wished to push out of his body. He could feel his blood lighting up to boiling. A sealed wound on his shoulder opened at the pressure, bruises darkened as capillaries burst, his skull felt twenty times too small. It was hard to focus on anything, not on Sabriel’s eyes on him unsympathetic and cold, not on the feeling of the old worn chair under him, or the way he gave up and slunk to his knees on the carpet. He barely thought about it as he called out for help, his hands digging into his head as he tried to break open his skull to relieve some of that pressure that kept on building and building. He called out for Sam, he called out for Bobby, he even called out for his Dad, and last when there was nothing left but instinct he called for Cas. Near him Sabriel laughed slightly.

“What part of angel proofing did you not get?” He asked. “You’re more likely to hear from the dead ones. Now just suck it up a little, it’ll be over soon.” He told him before getting to his feet and heading out towards the kitchen. It turned out that celestial beings have no concept of soon because Dean laid out on the carpet in agony for hours, all through the night and well into the morning. But finally it passed, settled back into some dull ache, something manageable. All his muscles burnt from lactic acid, and it was a struggle to get to his feet, even his jaw felt locked tight and he had to force it wide a few times to ease the stiffness away. “Oh goody, you’re all done, your screaming was starting to get a little grating.” Dean glared at him wishing he had the strength to pound the dick into the dirt. “Oh don’t give me that look, you’re a big tough hunter, I’m sure you’ve had worse.” Sabriel offered him a glass of water and he took it greedily not even questioning what might be in it. The water tasted different, cooler, sweeter, more pure as if it had been just that second melted from some peak in the alps that they always show on the bottled water ads. “How are you feeling?” Sabriel asked curiously.

“I dunno, a little hungry.” Dean shrugged and if he was honest as the seconds passed that was all he felt, a little nagging hunger to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. 

“Good.” Sabriel grinned, Dean stared at his grin in confusion, if he was placing bets on that smile he would put down good money on it being genuine. Sabriel looked at Dean and then laughed. “What? Come on, Dean, I don’t want you dead or anything. You’re the only card on the table remember?” Sabriel shrugged. “Now, give me your hand?”

“Why? What are you going to do?” Dean asked too tired to come up with a snarky response, keeping his arm right where it was at his side, the glass tight in the other hand, an easy, if ineffective, weapon.

“I’m not going to do anything. You are.” Sabriel offered his hand up and with great reluctance Dean grasped it with his free hand. “Ok, now think of hiding something, covering it, making it invisible.” Dean shut his eyes, sighed and thought, a few random images flicked through his head, keeping to the shadows like his dad had taught him on a hunt, shushing Sam to quiet him next to him as they waited out the cops, pulling Cas and Benny with him behind a tree in purgatory. Camouflage flicked through his mind, baby hidden under a tree in the dark. “Camo.” Sabriel whispered in front of him, and let out a little laugh. “That’s…that’s actually very clever.” He opened his eyes to question the angel in time to see sigil fading over their wrists, seeping red and permanent into the bones underneath and he let go of the angels’ hand in a flash, reaching for the angel blade.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he demanded as it slot so easily into his palm. 

“Relax, Dean. You’re still human, well as human as anyone can be with your history. I told you there are steps involved…preparations, think of this as getting a great big angelic hazmat suit.” Sabriel told him running his hand over his wrist.

“So I’m not…”

“No, you’re not an angel, Dean.” Sabriel scoffed. 

“So are we done?” Dean asked he wanted to go back to the batcave, take a shower in a dead man’s bathroom, maybe even catch a few hours sleep.

“Yeah, we’re done.” Sabriel told him and looked at him with a glimmer of affection in his eyes. “You…you held up better than I expected. I’m kinda impressed.” Dean shrugged and gave him a cocky grin as he raised two fingers to Dean’s forehead and the hunter prepared for a flight on heavens budget airlines.

“First thing anyone learns about me.” The angel lifted an eyebrow as he waited for Dean to finish. Dean gave him a wink. “I’m awesome.” There was a slight chuckle over the flutter of wings and Dean found himself back at the bar. He drove home feeling surprisingly light and headed towards the kitchen to get something to eat. He was halfway through cooking himself a burger and marvelling in his own awesomeness when a sound behind him made him jump. He turned to see Cas stood in the doorway staring at him. Dean gave him a quick glance and then returned to his food.

“What?” He asked not turning around. “You want a burger? Or do you just get your rocks off from boring a hole in the back of my head?” He bit out.

“You left last night and have only just returned.” Cas pointed out.

“So? You my mum now? Didn’t realise I had a curfew.” Dean huffed irritated.

“Sam attempted to ring you several times. He was concerned.” Cas told him in a flat voice.

“Must have left my phone somewhere.” Dean shrugged not looking away from where his burger was turning the perfect colour.  
“I am glad you are unharmed.” Cas told him, Dean said nothing just continued to stare at the browning meat until the angel left.

~~~D/C~~~

Sam was on his way to the kitchen when he saw Castiel dragging his feet along the carpet dejectedly like a child sent to its room.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam called to him trying to smile through the way his own voice cracked his throat.

“Your brother has returned.” Cas told him blandly, not meeting his eyes. 

“Oh.” He dug his hands into the pocket of the men of letters dressing gown around him. “So, you remember the other day…did you actually talk to him?” Sam asked and the angel blinked at him a few times before turning away.

“Indeed, we had words, Dean has made it perfectly clear where we stand, I assure you everything is fine.” Cas was many things but a good liar was not one of them. The silted way he spoke showed that nothing was fine. Sam gave him a small smile and let him be on his way, back to whatever it was that Cas did when he was out of sight. Normally he would have pressed the issue, he seemed to be the only one in their little group that seemed capable of expressing an emotion without bursting a blood vessel from tension, but he was anxious to see his brother after a night with a possible enemy doing who knows what. Dean was sat at the table an easy smile on his face as he shoved a burger into his mouth, the sides of the kitchen were in a mild chaos, but somehow it fit the room, made it look lived in and Sam was reminded of Bobby’s house and its homely disorder. 

“Dean, are you seriously having burgers for breakfast?” he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Hey don’t knock it till you try it.” Dean mumbled around a mouthful managing to cram more food in even as he spoke. Sam watched in horror as Dean succeeded in pushing the burger all the way in to chew loudly on it until it was gone. “What’s your poison this morning?” he asked brightly rushing to his feet to open the fridge and see what was in it. Sam could remember years of Dean’s cooking skills not stretching further than a bowl of lucky charms, but it turned out that if you gave Dean the resources he was a feeder. Sam had eaten better since they had made basecamp in the batcave than ever before. “Pancakes? Eggs?” Dean suggested with his head in the fridge. “Scrambled, omelette, whatever the hell poached is? Oh and you have to have bacon.” Dean told him. “Can’t beat a good bit of bacon.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean when he poked his head out of the fridge to stare questioningly at him. “Come on Sammy what’s the point in saving the world if you can’t live a little?” he asked and before Sam could even respond started to load up his arms with half the contents of the fridge. “That’s it, you just lost your chance to choose, bacon and scrambled eggs it is!” He said merrily before getting to work. 

“So, Cas says you just came back.” Sam pointed out through Dean humming metallica at his eggs. 

“Yup.” Dean agreed.

“And? You ok? Did you meet your new friend?”

“We’re not friends.” Dean told him, eyeing him crossly. “And yes, one trial down no problem. Soon I’ll be level with you. Hey Sammy wanna bet on it, ten bucks says I beat you.” Dean grinned.

“One trial no problem? Seriously, Dean? How are you feeling?” Sam asked a little spike of jealousy sticking through his gut, it wasn’t that he wanted Dean to be in pain but he couldn’t help but feel Dean would have been more suited to the task of shutting the gates if he didn’t have to be purified like Sam was. Dean had been the righteous man, the Michael sword, whereas Sam had been Lucifer’s Halloween costume. He also had the suspicion that Dean could lose all his limbs and he would still try and insist that he was fine if Sam asked. Dean gave his eggs one more prod and then turned to Sam.

“What we’re doing here, Sam, it’s nothing the same. Your slamming shut the door to hell. All I’m doing it grabbing the thing we wedge it shut with.” Dean told him. “So yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Ok, just be careful.” Sam told him as Dean proudly placed an enormous plate of great smelling food in front of him. “So, umm…me and Cas we were worried about you last night.” Sam tried his best to bring up the angels name casually. He would have let it go but sitting with your brothers angelic non-boyfriend as he had a very subdued panic attack about said brother not coming home was not a situation he wished to repeat any time soon.

“Yeah, sorry, I should have text you or something.” Dean muttered. 

“Cool, Cas was really worried y’know.” Sam told him as bluntly as he could. “Maybe the two of you should talk.” He ventured. Dean turned on him with irritation, his jaw set.

“We already talked.” He gritted out through his teeth, his glare daring Sam to pry more.

“And?”

“And what? We hugged, we cried, it was beautiful moment.” Dean fake simpered. “I’m working with the guy, I’m not about to let the world burn to nothing cos I’m pissed at someone, but me and Cas we know where we stand with each other. He chose his side a long time ago.”

“I know he let you down, Dean, but…” Sam started but Dean scoffed and rose to his feet.

“Let me down? I have begged him to stay with me, not once but three times, Sam. Three times I pleading with the guy to trust me and all three times he let me down. I’m done.” Dean declared simply. “I’m just done.” He repeated and strode out of the room. Sam watched Dean go with sympathy, he knew Dean, knew him better than any other person in existence and he knew once Dean cared about someone he was never ‘done’. It was just going to take a little while for Dean to figure that out himself.


End file.
